Page 69
TESS: WHAT? R U OK?
ALEX: NO.
My phone rings immediately.
“What?”
“Hi.”
“Muthafucker. I just jumped up and ran outside. Don’t do that to me.”
I’m pacing my dad’s deck even though it’s freezing, but this couldn’t wait. “Sorry beautiful. I’m not ok with our families running our holidays simply because we’re single and don’t have children.”
“Damn. That’s a good thought.”
“Do you enjoy this forced togetherness?”
“I’d prefer a beach or to be with you while you explain fantasy football to me again.”
“I’m losing, by the way. If fucking Derrick Henry doesn’t move his ass, my shot at the playoffs is screwed.”
“Same.”
I laugh loudly. “Spend Christmas with me. Let’s cook whatever we want as long as it’s turkey, and we can do it in Philly or LA. You and I, and we push through New Year’s. Be with me.”
“Lots to think about, my wildly romantic, Alex. I’ve got to get back inside before the crusty part of the mac and cheese is gone. My brothers eat it instead of the actual mac just to piss me off.”
“I’ll make only the crusty part of mac and cheese. Say yes to creating a different holiday with me. This one sucks.”
I’m tapping the railing to get out my nervous energy. This is what happens when I don’t have work. I’m fidgety and come up with wild plans.
Her voice is breathy and quiet, “I have to go. But yes.”
“Fuck, yes! Talk later.”
“Someday.”
“Someday.”
She hangs up, and I formulate a plan to get out of the London holiday. My mom will be pissed, but my dad will understand. My sister will shit, but after her dry ass turkey, it serves her right.
47
Tess
I’m floating on a carb high and the words he said to me. My dad and I are sipping wine and listening to the ocean. He doesn’t know it, but I gave my stepmom the cash for the down payment for this beach house. She pretended she’d saved for it. I knew he wouldn’t take the money, but I wanted to do this for him. They don’t know that I paid off the house, and their mortgage payments go into a trust fund. Alan set it all up.
“What’s in your brain?” My father’s favorite question.
“Alex. And writing. And someone got the drop on me last week, and I almost lost a match.”
“You know it’s not competitive tennis, right?”
“It is for me.” I raise my glass to him.
“Alex seems good for you.”
“He is. He doesn’t think working is strange. He works just as hard, so there’s no resentment.”
